


Voices Like Mine, Harmoniously Whispering

by Yesod-Is-Home-Of-Sexual (dearest_starboy)



Series: How Fucked Up Would That Be [7]
Category: Lobotomy Corporation (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: Bad Parenting, Boredom, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearest_starboy/pseuds/Yesod-Is-Home-Of-Sexual
Summary: "... Forgive us."
Series: How Fucked Up Would That Be [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819822
Kudos: 10





	Voices Like Mine, Harmoniously Whispering

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up until 6 am to write this and posted it on Tumblr but nobody read it :( so I'm trying my luck here. It didn't want me staying up late to go to waste.

The more reckless you are, the most casualties you cause. The more curious you are, the closer you get to opening Pandora's box.

It's a normal day, everyone does their jobs as told. You, Rorschach, don't have anything to clean up so far. It's quiet and calm, as it should be. But it only bores you, your purpose, as far as you're aware, should be on cleaning. And there's nothing to clean.

"What do I do? Everything is spotless, and there is no danger."

"Don't wish for danger, just find something to do. It's not that hard."

You can't leave this place. As much as you wished you could, there's no way to leave. No way to really enjoy yourself. So you scrounge around. Ask other agents on break. Ask clerks who carry mountains of papers.

"If you can't leave, just look around." It all boils down to. Doing drugs is also another suggestion, but frankly it's not Friday.

Explore around, you know this place well enough. It's possible there's other places you haven't been to. You soon realize it's quite difficult to find. But you're determined. Even more so.

Door through door, less employees you see lurking around. It attempts to discourage you, but you'll seek it out. 

A crack in those steel walls big enough for you to fit in. A door nearby that won't budge open. You put your mop near the crack and it's taken away immediately by the unknown. How peculiar. "Hello?" 

Nothing.

"I don't wanna go in and get it from you."

…

Still, nothing.

"I suppose I have no choice, huh?" You're already on your hands and knees, crawling right into where you don't even know. It's a bit cramped, but it doesn't stop you.

When you reach the open space, it's still pitch black. You grab your small emergency torch from you pants pocket, click the button so the golden light turns on. The moment it does however, you almost drop it.

How odd. You don't remember looking so worn out. Your eyes aren't such a dull red, hat gone, and your jaw should've been intact, because you feel your mouth clamp shut when you realize you were looking at yourself.

It's not quite yourself, is it? The familiarities are undoubtedly there, but there's too much damage to the image you see to really be the you that you remember. Like an imitation. The imitation tilts it's head slightly, observing your shocked-frozen state.

It grabs at your hand. The torch flickers. You can't move, but your mind is is screaming. 

Run.

Run, right now.

You can't move.

It's blinks back at you. Those eyes, dull, but clearly filled with a familiar, distorted version of a soul you know.

"M... M-My mop... I need my mop…"

Ever so slowly, it takes it's time to move. It looks away, the light grip on your hand leaving to turn away. With what little you could muster, you continue to look.

It's not alone, no. There were more like it. Like you. All familiar to you. White waves of hair, desperately cling to the scalps of a few, many with no eyes, no jaws, no heads. There were many with no hands, no feet. Gruesome ones with no limbs, seemingly torn from their torsos and insides full of wires and when looks to be rotting meat, left out on display. 

All of them saw you, complete and all. Full hair, two eyes, full head, arms and legs, unharmed, unscathed, a hat on your head.

"Who are you?"

A mop was held out to you. The one you first saw with no jaw, it seems like this one was less damaged among the rest. There's no malice in it's eyes, more so a tired and hopeless emotion, it almost makes you choke.

"T-Thank you. I'm... I'm sorry to have bothered you all. I'll leave you all alone." You back away. They don't come after you. Just staring. Blankly.

"…w is i…?" You hear your voice. But you didn't say those words. In fact, your voice doesn't sound so broken.

You suddenly can't speak. Your voice can't seem to be heard.

"F…f…y …ev…n…" It beckoned over. And you complied. Those damaged arms slowly went around you in an embrace, "... Forgive us."

* * *

The smell of rotten meat lingered in your clothes, only silence remained from you.

There was nothing to say.

Yesod asks you why Binah found you at the bottom of her well. 

But you walk pass him.

There was nothing to say.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not british I just think british words are funny so I used torch instead of flashlight


End file.
